Quite accidentally, I met Mr. Lacoursière at Pointe-à-Callière Museum’s 18th century New France Public Market event, in which he was playing the role of an “historien.” Dressed in a wide-collared frock, waistcoat, breeches, and a smart tricorne hat, he stood close to a group of raucous fishermen from Gaspé who were quarreling with three soldiers of the Montréal regiment of His Majesty King Louis XV.
His colonial appearance inspired me to read his newly-published book, whose title, A People’s History of Quebec, hinted at an English version of his seminal and much-acclaimed Histoire populaire du Québec.
But the title is misleading.
The book certainly is the English version of one of Mr. Lacoursière’s works, but not his five-volume People’s beast. It’s a translation of his gift-sized Une histoire du Québec racontée par Jacques Lacoursière, published in 2002. Perhaps it is the aforementioned gift appeal that influenced the editors’ decision to choose a prestigious title for a light book. But the fact that this title sounds like a translation of the title of one work, while it actually presides over the translation of another by the same author, is not the only reason this title seems inappropriate.
Like the New France Public Market, Lacoursière’s English-language expedition is brimming with action; grouping political, economic, cultural, and social developments, it sweeps across centuries, but it is nevertheless not comprehensive. The historical material appears unbiased and enlightening, but is often glossy rather than substantial, and feels hurried.
A 200-page undertaking, it’s less ambitious than its title proclaims; it is more of an overview. The original French-language work that this title represents spans five 250-page volumes; if they really had to hint at this famously comprehensive history, they should have added the word “short.” Often, topics mentioned in one place are not referred to again, and in places the reader is left wondering.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s still a riveting read. For many, caught in the swirl of postmodern life, a quick, informative read that you can finish in a single day will sound inviting.
The book is thus certainly an example of mass history, a tale for busy people and enthusiasts. As such, it can deservedly be called People’s, but I sense that was not the original intent of that title. Traditional histories favor elite protagonists, focusing on political events and military feats, usually neglecting ordinary people. People’s suggests the opposite: a focus on the social, the everyday. While this work does offer some good information on Québec’s society and culture, these references are not nearly as numerous as the word “people’s” caused me to expect; its main focus remains political and economic.
This book makes a valuable contribution, however, in its very appearance. English-language history books focusing solely on Quebec are not common; this is a serious, well-informed, general work that makes an honest attempt at objectivity. It joins works like Short History of Quebec by Young and Dickinson (McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1988) and Quebec, a History, 1867-1929 by Linteau, Durocher, and Robert. Lacoursière’s work improves on these in its refreshing flow and witty tone, but falls short in being overly brief, slightly inconclusive, and somewhat mis-titled. A more literal translation of the title’s French-language counterpart, using the word “popular” (with all it connotes in English) would have captured the book’s essence much better.
Danijel Matijevic leads the history section of The Panoptique Review, a multi-disciplinary journal based in Montreal. He received his MA in history from McGill University and is currently working on a project focusing on memories of the Holocaust.
